


Coming Together

by Trista_zevkia



Series: Coming Together [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Superman (Comics), Superman - All Media Types, Superman/Batman (Comics), World's Finest (Comics)
Genre: Case Fic, Dubious Consent, First Time, Identity Porn, M/M, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 21:55:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3091970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trista_zevkia/pseuds/Trista_zevkia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gotham has classes in how to Drive Superman insane; Clark knows it. The worst offenders are Batman and this Brucie Wayne. </p><p>Heed the tags, read the note!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Together

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this years ago, wanting Bruce to drive Clark insane with confusion and lust; so insane he does things he normally wouldn't do. Rereading it now, with a bit more experience, I can see how it is actually dubious consent. So, please read something else if rape triggers you. I'd have taken it out, but there's not much of a story left without these plot points.
> 
> I previously posted this on World's Finest, maybe Livejournal, so you might have read. Editing and re-posting in an attempt to bribe my muses back with kudos and comments.

Clark stared at the report before him, as if hoping more information would suddenly appear on his computer screen. The black and white picture showed a spotlight with a bat emblem spread across it. A frozen Commissioner Gordon was gesturing at the light, or ‘bat-signal’ as the caption called it. Four different Gotham City newspapers had the same information and Clark had read them all; this one was simply the best written.

It talked about Gordon unveiling the bat-signal even as it delved into speculation as to why Gordon would invest in such a thing while the police department officially denied the Batman existed. Clark had been aware of the weird vigilante rumors for quite a while but thought it was a combination of scary architecture and a pervasive drug problem. Gordon could have put the light up to enhance the urban legend, as petty crime had dropped since the Batman first showed up, but Clark felt there was more to it than that. 

Clark thought about it and realized he had seen pictures but never actually been to Gotham. Even after Superman expanded his range from Metropolis to the whole world, waiting in the stratosphere for calls for assistance, he had never stopped in Gotham. Clark glanced at his appointments, not because he needed to but because it made him look human. Staff meeting tomorrow morning but it was a Friday, so he could take half a day off to check out Gotham before night fell. A weekend in Gotham should be enough time to figure out what this Batman was up to, and stop him if necessary. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

A month later, Superman settled onto the tallest spire in Gotham with a sigh. Instead of hanging out in the atmosphere listening for trouble, for the past month he had been standing here. He still listened for trouble in the world but here he also listened for the sounds of Batman. His first afternoon here he had seen the cameras that predominated in most American cities were doubled here, because of the high crime rate. Yet there were no reliable pictures of the Batman, so logic said that he had a way to kill the feed around him. So, Superman listened for an electronic signal that would interfere with cameras working. 

The sound of many attackers getting beaten to a pulp by one person was also a good way to hone in on Batman. Except it was hard to distinguish one fight from another, and Gotham had a lot of fights. Usually, by the time he figured out which fight involved Batman, the vigilante was gone and the crooks were gift wrapped for the police. 

What he had come to discover though, was that Gotham did not cry out in her pain. Even the victims were quiet in their calls for help, as though whoever heard their anguish might do worse to them than the person currently victimizing them. Was this Batman’s doing? If so, he was doing more harm than good and Superman would have to stop him. If he ever found him, he amended mentally and sighed again. 

“Something vexes thee?” A dark voice growled out behind him. 

Superman stepped away from the voice even as he whirled around to face it. Before he could focus on the words he found himself staring at an empty roof. Had he just imagined that voice out of desperation? As if sensing his confusion a shadow rose from the roof. He decided he could really learn to hate Gotham. This creepy place had shadows within shadows and now one was talking to him. A shadow with pointed ears, who had managed to sneak up on him. 

Slowly and deliberately, the gravelly voice spoke again. “Were you looking for me?” 

Superman felt heat on his face. Batman was treating him like an idiot because he had fallen for the spooky act. Clark folded his arms and frowned at the man. “I am Superman.” 

Batman responded by pointedly shifting his gaze to Superman’s feet. Clark looked also, and felt his blush deepen. When Batman had startled him, (ok, scared him) he had stepped off the roof and now hovered above all of Gotham. Of course he was Superman, what an idiotic thing to say. Batman stared at him but didn’t speak, leaving Clark fumbling for something to say. It took him a minute to remember Batman had asked a question, though he couldn’t remember what was said that sent him off the roof. Had Batman said thee? 

“I was looking for you. I want you to stop being a vigilante before you hurt someone and I have to take you to jail. I think you’ve good intentions but people are more scared of you than they are of the criminals. You’re in good shape, so it would be easy for you to become a cop or private eye, so you could help people within the law! If I didn’t think your intentions were good, I would take you to jail right now, instead of offering you this chance to change.” 

There was a moment of silence, while Clark figured Batman was thinking over his offer, before a low rumbling noise forced its way out of the Batman. Anger flushed Clark’s cheeks this time. Batman was laughing. Before he could think of a good response, Batman spoke. 

“Maybe, instead of looking for me for the past month, you should have been watching the criminals of this city. Or even the innocents, because in Gotham it can be hard to distinguish the two. Maybe your symbol of hope works for the rest of the world, but here the fear of punishment is much more effective. Study my city, in your free time. Learn the history and read the crime reports. Then figure out how you are going to stop me from trying to save her. Make no mistake, this is my city and I will defend it while there is breath left in my body.” 

Clark felt a chill from the intensity in that voice. Batman was weird and creepy, but he was also sincere in his desire to help. Clark sighed and this time his voice was less imperious and more reasonable. 

“Batman, unless you have some special talents I’m not aware of, you are only human. You will get killed doing this unless you quit now. In fact, to insure you quit…” Superman stopped talking in mid sentence. He focused his x-ray vision on Batman’s face while speaking, only to find his vision blocked. 

Batman tilted his head to the side. “Peeking?” 

A thought filtered through and spurred Superman toward Batman. “The only thing I can’t see through is lead which is dangerous to human skin. You’ve got to take that mask off!” 

Batman held him back with a hand gesture. “It’s not actually lead. It is a compound of a similar molecular weight and structure that I developed. It shouldn’t have the same side effects as lead exposure but should have the ability to block your vision. An aspect of the compound I couldn’t test without your presence, so it’s good to know it worked. You really shouldn’t have told that reporter about you and lead. Still, I would say that your night vision is near human normal and you have to actively focus in order to use your x-ray vision. Otherwise, you would have seen me before I stood up. Lane wasn’t clear though, is it x-ray like seeing bone structure or would you have been able to see my skin under my mask and on top of my bones?” 

Superman was so caught up in the science lecture tone in that gravelly voice that it took him a minute to catch up to the question. He was in the process of formulating an answer he thought would make sense before he realized it. “I’m not going to tell you that! I am taking you to the police for breaking the law. I am sure they can figure out what to charge you with.” 

Batman snorted and walked to the other side of the roof. Superman stayed where he was, as there was nowhere for Batman to escape him on this spire roof. 

“Study my city for another month. Then we’ll talk again.” Batman turned and faced him across the roof as if for a final thought. “Oh, and good luck with that redemption merit badge, Boy Scout.” 

With that, Batman leaned back and fell off the roof. A startled Clark took a moment to register what he had just seen before flying around to the other side of the roof. Buildings, shadows and gargoyles stared back at him, but Batman was nowhere to be seen. Puzzled, Clark switched to x-ray and looked for a body with the face blocked to him. Nothing. He flew slowly around the buildings, looking and listening, but found nothing. Agitated, confused and a little pissed, Superman rocketed upwards for some thinking room. 

Seeing the blue streak skyward, Batman got up from the chair he’d been sitting in. The residents of this penthouse suite slept on, as oblivious to Batman’s departure as they had been to his entrance. The back-flip off the roof had been a bit showy, but that was because Superman had called him ‘only human.’ The balcony had made a nice landing pad and the chair inside by the window had been a good place to take off his mask and look normal for Superman’s x-ray vision sweep of this building. 

Cowl back in place, he swung off to find some trouble. So that was Superman, huh? Well, he wasn’t impressed. But he had a managed to get a month to acquire or make some kryptonite. If Superman still planned to take him in, he would have a fight on his hands. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

Lois noticed and remarked on his sudden fascination with Gotham, and Clark responded quite truthfully that he was just trying to figure out the weird city. He was privately ready to concede that Batman was helping, according to statistics and surveys anyway. But there was something in his manner that just rubbed Clark the wrong way. 

He’d learned to trust his feelings when it came to people, so he still intended to stop Batman once the month was over. He now knew that Batman wouldn’t go quietly to jail, and he realized that Batman had more going on for him than an average street thug. He was creepy, sneaky, scary smart, and almost invisible. Clark was understandably wary of the fight that would happen when he told Batman of his impending arrest. He mind went to that fight in idle moments, so it took an elbow in the ribs from Lois to make him realize that Perry was speaking to him. 

“Are you listening to me, Clark?” Perry growled at him, inches from his nose. 

“Sorry, chief. Just thinking about the best headline.” 

Perry snorted and put a memo in Clark’s hand. “Knowing Wayne, the headline has already been written by his PR staff. Still, it’s a good puff piece; he’s bringing jobs to Metropolis.” 

Clark waited for Perry to focus on the next unfortunate to get their assignment in the staff meeting before reading the press release. He was to be in Gotham Friday for a press luncheon and an announcement from Wayne Enterprises. Wayne and then Batman, two birds with one stone and all that. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

Clark flipped through the press packet provided as he signed into the luncheon and realized Perry was right. Wayne Enterprise’s PR department had pretty much written the article for the press. The proposed distribution center in Metropolis would bring in about a thousand jobs at a high hourly rate, and no one in Metropolis was against that. Making this deal public by going to the press was probably just a way to get passed regulations that were slowing down the project. Still, the free lunch was a perk of the job, which Clark would have enjoyed if he hadn’t been thinking of the upcoming fight. 

He clapped politely when Bruce Wayne stood behind the podium, but quickly lost interest in the actual words, a rehash of what was in the press packet. Wayne was reading from cards as if he hadn’t even bothered to read them before coming out. He was charming but clueless, and Clark wondered if Wayne had the foggiest idea of what this project would mean to a thousand unskilled workers. Yet the guy couldn’t possibly be as clueless as he seemed, he doubtless had the best education money could provide. 

Clark applauded when Wayne finished but decided to test his ‘not as dumb as he looks’ theory. He held up his hand, waiting his turn to ask a question. Most of the questions involved Wayne’s personal life, which he answered in a charming, flippant manor. Clark patiently waited his turn. Even as Wayne pointed to him, something flickered in those eyes for a moment but Clark was too busy with his question to pay it much attention. 

“Clark Kent, _Daily Planet_. Don’t you think that offering such high wages for unskilled labor, including those who may have a non-violent criminal background, works to remove the incentive for completing higher education?” 

Wayne stared at him for a long moment before breaking into a rakish grin. “Sorry, Clark was it? Your question was so long I started thinking about my weekend plans.” 

He gave the laughter a minute to settle down before tearing his eyes from Clark and taking another question. Clark was irritated, and convinced. The guy was a useless and vacant as he seemed. After answering a few more questions, Wayne said his farewells and left. Clark felt he had to stay for a few minutes of small talk, so nobody thought Wayne had offended him. 

After twenty minutes he made his way to the door. In the elevator he pulled out his cell phone to turn the ringer back on, when he saw he had missed a call. It was a Gotham number, which confused him. He didn’t know anybody in Gotham, so who could be calling? Should he call the number back and ask? He was saved having to decide when the phone rang; it was the same number calling back. He shrugged and answered. 

“Hello?” 

“Mr. Kent, this is Mr. Wayne’s secretary. He would like to apologize for his comments at the press luncheon by inviting you to dinner, tonight or before you return to Metropolis.” 

Clark was weirded out for a moment. Who had their secretary call and apologize for them? Still, he did have time to kill before Batman emerged at sunset and a personal interview would be a nice addition to his story. “Sure, tonight would be fine.” 

“A car will be at your hotel at 6:30.” The Secretary’s calm, professional voice took on a clipped quality that let Clark know she disliked what she was saying. “Mr. Wayne would like to know if you have a preference.” 

“A preference? For what?” 

“Blonde, brunette or redhead?” 

“What?” Clark spat out before he could compose himself. “Look, I thought this was going to be an interview. I don’t need a date for that.” 

The secretary sounded relieved when she spoke next. “As you prefer. I will make the arraignments. Have a nice day.” 

The phone clicked off and Clark started musing as he wandered down the street. Maybe Batman was right, maybe this town did need a special kind of hero. Because as far as he could tell, the cheese had slipped off the cracker for the whole place. Of course, he was the one having dinner with the city’s richest fop. The word ‘fop’ just popped into his brain but it felt right. If anybody in this day and age could be called a fop, it was useless, clueless, rich–as-God-Bruce Wayne. 

Clark rounded the corner at the end of the street before he was lost from sight of the cameras mounted around Wayne Enterprises. Only then did Bruce Wayne turn off the monitor he had been watching from. The lead lined pouch on his utility belt held the kryptonite he had worked so hard to acquire, and his thoughts had been mostly on that when he looked down the line of reporters and saw Superman. 

Apparently his reaction hadn’t showed, because Clark Kent had simply gone on with his question. A room full of nosy, snooping reporters, not to mention the ones Kent worked with on a daily basis and not one of them noticed Superman with heavy glasses and an ugly tie? 

As Batman, he put black makeup around his eyes so nobody could recognize the shape if he didn’t have his lenses down. He went clean shaven so they couldn’t tell what color his hair was. He disguised his voice and tried to blend into the shadows so nobody ever got a good look at his height or body frame. When apparently all he needed was a Groucho nose and glasses. These types of thoughts had distracted him from Kent’s question. 

As he rode the elevator to his office, Bruce wondered why Kent was here. Finally he decided that if Kent knew, he would have done more than ask a stupid question. People who could be attracted away from a higher education by ten dollars more than minimum wage were not exactly the intellectual future of the world. Besides, if their parents worked for that higher rate, more people could afford to put off work long enough to go to college. Superman hung out in the atmosphere and had no idea how things worked on the surface. Still, it would be best to see exactly what Superman had up those skin tight sleeves. He had nodded to his secretary’s hail and stopped as if a sudden thought had occurred to him. 

“Mrs. Davidson, get the cell phone number for a Clark Kent of the _Daily Planet_ in Metropolis. Apologize for my behavior at the press conference and see if he wants to have supper or something before he goes home.” He went into the office and turned back. “And see what his preference is for dinner companions.” 

With a suggestive wink he closed the door behind him. Alone and unobserved, he sat at the desk and followed Kent’s progress through the crowd and out the building. He pressed a couple of buttons and listened while Mrs. Davidson talked with him. The Boy Scout blushed when she asked about women. It was funny and could have been dismissed easily, but like everything else it got filed away in Bruce’s computer like mind for future reference. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

Clark hadn’t thought to ask what to wear, so he just changed his shirt and put on a nicer tie. The town car was luxurious, though it was only a fifteen minute ride. The doorman had to ride up in the elevator with him because he had the key that would tell the elevator to take them all the way to the penthouse. An elderly, British butler escorted him from the elevator to the dining room where an intimate table was set for two. 

Clark was relieved that Wayne hadn’t brought company anyway. Of course, if he considered Wayne’s reputation, he probably had plans to go clubbing until dawn after supper. Wayne entered the room, bare-feet slapping on the hardwood. Black slacks and a tan shirt, neatly pressed but still way more casual than Clark’s suit and tie. 

With a casual greeting he settled into his end of the table and the butler emerged with a bottle of wine. Wayne examined the cork and swirled, sniffed, and tasted the wine before allowing the butler to pour it in the glasses. The three course meal was excellent, making up for the bland conversation. It was like talking with somebody doing PR for Bruce Wayne instead of the man himself. He didn’t talk in the third person but he didn’t reveal a single thing about himself that couldn’t be found on the internet. 

Some of the things he said almost seemed cagey, but you had to be smart and make decisions about what to reveal to be cagey. Occasionally, something flickered across his face, something unidentifiable that hinted at a person Clark might actually like to meet. Just maybe, there was more to Wayne than the world knew, but Clark figured it couldn’t be much. 

Finally, the dessert dishes were removed and the butler dismissed for the night. Wayne hadn’t brought up going out after supper, but Clark was wondering when and how to take his leave before it did come up. Wayne reached across the table to refill Clark’s wine glass, when he noticed the bottle was empty. 

“Whoops! I guess I’ll go get another.” 

Clark wasn’t sure how to tell him not to bother, when Wayne got up and swayed toward the kitchen. He acted tipsy but Clark felt like he had drunk all the wine himself. It didn’t metabolize the right way to make him drunk but he did feel full of liquid. He looked across the table at Wayne’s wine glass, which was half full, just where the butler had left it. Clark thought about it, and realized that the only sip of wine he could remember Wayne taking had been to taste it. 

Also, when Wayne left, he hadn’t made funny noises with his feet like he had when he came in. This meal had convinced him that Wayne was not as much of an idiot as he had originally thought, now he wondered just how much of Wayne was a pretense. A bang at the kitchen door and Wayne foot-slapped his way over to Clark, with a wine bottle in each hand and a corkscrew in his pocket. He looked idiotic and drunk, but Clark glanced at the wineglass again. Wayne caught the look, and something like a calculation passed behind those eyes. 

“Sorry it took so long. Had the hardest time finding the corkscrew.” He was smiling that charming smile as he said this, but he set the bottles on the table in front of Clark and put the corkscrew next to them. The grin faded into something a little more secretive as he turned, straddled Clark’s legs, and sat down. 

Clark’s mind raced. Why was a not-as-drunk-as-he-pretended Bruce Wayne sitting in his lap? Wayne answered the question by leaning forward and kissing Clark. It wasn’t the timid first date kiss Clark had given to his dates. This was the passion fueled, tongue dancing kiss of a world traveled seducer. Wide eyed, Clark was treated to a close up view of Bruce’s closed eyes and thick eyelashes. His brain had no idea what to do, so his body was taking up the slack. When Bruce finally came up for air, staring seductively into his eyes, Clark was half out of slack downstairs. 

His panicked brain said stall. “Ba..Bathroom.” 

Wayne smirked a little as he pointed down the hallway. “First door on your right.” 

Clark picked up Wayne and set him aside so he could stand up and sprint for the bathroom. He locked the door behind him and ran cool water over his face. He stood there, willing his brain to come up with something more useful than repeatedly asking “What the Hell?!” 

Bruce watched as Clark fled into the bathroom, highly amused. Clark was apparently unaware that he had just picked up about 210 pounds of muscle and set them aside like a bottle of wine. Clark had downed most of two bottles of wine and evidently it didn’t occur to him to pretend to be inebriated. Though that was probably what he would claim when he came out of the bathroom, Bruce figured. 

He had notice the wine disappearing and decided to give Clark as much as he would take just to see what would happen, but that plan had backfired when he couldn’t find the corkscrew. Stupid really, but Alfred hated it when he messed up the kitchen, so Bruce tended to leave it alone. He’d come back and found Clark considering the glass of wine Bruce had never touched. Batman’s plans for this evening couldn’t have happened if Brucie got drunk. He had needed a distraction and recalled Clark’s blush at the idea of a blind date. So Bruce sat on his lap and gave him _The Kiss_. 

It was something he had worked hard to perfect, a kiss that told his dates that Bruce really desired them, could even be in love with them, wanted nothing so much as to throw them on the bed and make love to them. That kiss seduced women and men without ever actually sleeping with them, and promised that he would at a later date. Then he could leave or pass out from drink without damaging his playboy reputation. What women would tell her friends that she couldn’t even get Brucie Wayne to sleep with her? Half the guys he seduced wouldn’t even admit they were gay or bi, so they kept their mouths shut. 

Bruce liked sex and wanted to find real love as much as the next person, but Batman demanded too much of him. Batman had studied sex, the chemicals, emotions and body parts involved, because he knew what a powerful motivator sex could be. He had studied the karma sutra and other ancient texts as well as modern ideas, and he had a great deal of practice. So laying The Kiss on Clark had been a tactical move, though he believed that Clark would emerge from the bathroom with an emergency phone call. Especially when he realized that Bruce had been trying to determine just what material that super-suit was made from. 

Still, he never bluffed when he couldn’t afford the consequences, so he headed to the bedroom on the other side of the bathroom. He rummaged through the drawer of sex toys that playboy Wayne was naturally in possession of. He considered the condoms, doubted Superman could host any Earth diseases to worry about, but Batman could always use a fluid sample. Bruce found a giant new tube of lube and placed it predominantly on the nightstand, and scattered some condoms around it. With the remote from the nightstand in his hand, he placed himself beside the bathroom door with the open bedroom behind him and waited. Clark was taking his own sweet time in there. 

Clark regained his composure enough to notice that while he had been focused on that kiss, Bruce’s hands had been busy. His pants were open, his tie was gone and his shirt had been opened enough to see the blue uniform underneath. Bruce must have just thought it was an undershirt, otherwise he would have said something, right? 

Wayne’s name had come up quite a lot in the research into Gotham and not one single article had hinted that Wayne might be gay or bisexual. Still, Clark was having enough trouble figuring himself out that he would have to leave Brucie for a later date. He had never had sexual thoughts about guys before, he had always liked women. So why had one kiss from the world’s greatest fop gotten him so excited? 

Maybe it was the blatant sexuality hinted at in that kiss. Sure, Brucie was good looking, and really buff... Not buff, bluff! Brucie had seen Clark staring at the wineglass, and decided he didn’t want this reporter snooping into his reasons for not drinking. The come-on was just a bluff to distract him! Wayne probably expected him to be in the bathroom making up excuses and departing within minutes. Well, two could play at that game. A super quick change of clothes and the super suit was neatly folded and hidden inside his shirt. So shirtless and with his pants as undone as Bruce had left them, Clark took a deep breath before exiting the bathroom. 

Wayne was no longer at the table; instead he was startlingly close, leaning against the wall near the bathroom. He took in Clark’s expression before letting his eyes travel slowly downward. Clark squirmed under the scrutiny and decided to distract himself by looking at Bruce’s lips instead of eyes. A mistake that caused his stomach to flip over and do weird things with that excellent supper. The predatory grin on Bruce’s lips made Clark wonder if it was too late to fake that phone call. 

Bruce must have finished his assessment, because he unfolded his arms and pointed a remote control behind him. Low, seductive jazz music began playing from the bedroom and Clark visibly swallowed. He didn’t know people actually had sexy music on cue in the bedroom; he thought it was just a joke from the seventies. Bruce hit another button and the bed was encased in a red glow that was just bright enough for Clark to make out the word lube on the huge bottle on the nightstand. 

His wide eyes focused back on Bruce’s face, even as he took a step backwards. Amusement flickered there at that step and anger flared up in Clark. It was a bluff, the big city boy was just trying to pull something over the country boy. Against his will, Clark glanced at the lube again. It was a bluff, just a well prepared bluff, right? 

Forcing himself to act, Clark closed the distance between them and kissed Brucie. There was a moment of surprise, before Brucie was kissing him back. That moment let Clark know he was right, it had been a bluff! But before he could begin to ask Bruce to explain it to him, his mind started short circuiting. Bruce had his hand down Clark’s open pants and was doing something down there that required all of Clark’s concentration. 

It was a rough stroke with a twist at the top that brought Clark to an almost instant hardness. At the end of the stroke, Brucie would take his hand off and Clark would unconsciously move forward to encourage Brucie to do it again. By the time Clark realized this, they were almost to the glowing bed. He was also completely naked. How had Brucie got his underwear off without him noticing? Brucie was busting out of his pants, but he still had them on. 

When Brucie backed into the bed, he stopped to take off his pants and boxers, but left his shirt on. Clark used the opportunity to try and calm his body down. This was just a distraction; he was supposed to find out what Bruce was up to, not sleep with him. His body wasn’t listening, and when Brucie touched him again his brain gave up fighting it. Soft, gentle caresses from those hands that were surprisingly rough for a fop. 

A gentle embrace that turned into a throw, and Clark was face down on the bed. He looked up, trying to figure out how that happened when he notice the lube was gone. Kisses and caresses on his backside had him so hard he thought he would leave a dent in the bedsprings. A cool fluid dribbled down the crack of his ass and he gasped out loud. A calming murmur as hands worked to warm up the fluid. 

Then something warm and slimy slid into his asshole. He yelped and twisted around to look. It was just a finger; he could still get out of this. Beg off and never think of it again. Bruce certainly couldn’t force him, though he doubted Bruce was so far gone that he would try to. He twisted a little further to see Bruce’s face and could have spent days figuring out what he saw there. The fop was gone, replaced by someone with a startling intelligence and calculating eyes. Bruce saw him looking and replied by inserting a second finger. 

The second finger was longer and reached further into Clark, and touched something that felt good. A startled Clark planted his face into the bed to hide his moan. Was that a prostate? He hadn’t known he had one, but he was really glad to find it! A third finger stretched him in ways he had never considered and he heard Brucie’s name moaned from his throat. Suddenly, the fingers were gone and he was incredibly empty. 

Warm hands pulled him into a kneeling position and Brucie’s body pressed against him. Brucie’s ramrod stiff penis slide through his ass cheeks until Clark moaned with a need he had never known before. Slowly the cool jell of the lube entered into his awareness, as Brucie entered him, having managed to silently apply a condom. There wasn’t as much pain as he expected but Brucie seemed to know exactly what to do to rub against that prostate. His last coherent thought centered around the idea that he wanted something to touch, but if he lost it he would hurt Brucie. So he grabbed his own thighs and let his mind off for the next few minutes. 

Brucie established the rhythm and used his left hand to hold up Clark’s body. His right hand snaked forward and went back to that stroke-twist that had pulled Clark into the room. When Clark came, pushed over the edge, he gushed over Bruce’s bed. Bruce came a few strokes later, strong hands clenching whatever bits of Clark he happened to grasp. Clark could have collapsed into his own semen, but Brucie’s surprisingly strong arm held him up until his bones started working again. 

He didn’t really need the same amount of sleep as humans did, but he was filled with a desire to curl up in Brucie’s arms and sleep. Brucie had other ideas though, for he slipped out and away from Clark and picked up the remote. He flicked off the music and lights, then turned on the TV. He flipped the wet cover off the other side of the bed and got in the sheets. Clark sat back and put his feet on the floor, unsure of what to do now. If it had just been a distraction, it was a good one. “That door leads to the bathroom where you left your shirt.” Clark’s eyes followed where Brucie pointed and then he got up to retrieve his underwear and pants. “And if I’m asleep when you’re done cleaning up, there’s some money in the top drawer of the nightstand. For a cab or whatever.” 

Clark froze with his underwear in his hand, eyes wide. He turned and looked. Brucie was oblivious to his presence, focused on the TV and looking half asleep already! He was still wearing that now wrinkled shirt. Clark tried to gather up his dignity with his pants as he beat a hasty retreat to the bathroom. The shower felt a little too good on his sexually aroused skin, but his anger kept him from enjoying it. 

Clark wasn’t the most sexually experienced person in the world and Brucie had just topped every experience he had ever had. He’d opened up desires Clark didn’t even know he possessed and then dismissed him like a hooker. Even if Clark did become jaded enough to go to a prostitute, he sincerely believed he would treat her better than Brucie had just treated him. 

He dried off and dressed as quickly as he could without raising suspicion. With his uniform back on, he felt a little calmer but looked angrily at Brucie through the wall. He appeared to be asleep as his breathing was slow and steady; his body sprawled and relaxed while holding the remote on his chest. 

Clark had a fleeting desire to burn Brucie with his heat vision when the man shifted a little. His arm moved off his chest and Clark could clearly see three broken ribs. He was confused, again. Everything Brucie did made the news, so how could he have three broken ribs and no leaked medical reports? He must have kept his shirt on to hide the corresponding bruise. Maybe he hadn’t been drinking at dinner to keep from mixing alcohol with painkillers. But either way, why work so hard to hide it? 

Angry still and now really confused, Clark went into the hallway. He took a good look around and saw no cameras invaded Brucie’s apartment. His apartment he kept for fuck buddies not worth taking to Wayne Manor, Clark mentally amended. Superman tried to leave his emotions aside as he lifted off from the balcony and set off in search of Batman. Batman, now there was a problem he could do something about. 

Bruce woke up and glanced at the clock. He had been asleep for about twenty minutes. Not even a nap, really but it showed that he felt comfortable with a naked Superman wandering about unsupervised. Not many of his dates made him emotionally comfortable enough to sleep while they were still here. Interesting, but a line of thought for a later time. 

A quick shower and he redressed his broken ribs, hoping the large purple bruise and bandage hadn’t peeked out of the shirt. And he hoped that Clark hadn’t found wearing the shirt weird enough to x-ray him. Bruce had weird sports to explain injuries but the less he used them, the less suspicious people would get. When he pulled up the cowl and double checked the kryptonite, though, his mind was no longer on that encounter but the next one. 

Superman tracked the sounds of pain and fighting, only to find a group of thugs beating up one of their own for not sharing the loot properly. He waited for the cops to arrive and gave his statement before heading back to the sky. He was considering leaving this terrible town, when a shadow waved at him. He landed next to the crouched Batman and did a quick scan to verify that he was wearing his lead lined mask. 

Because of Batman’s position, Clark also noticed the section of his belt that wasn’t see-through. The man had all kinds of mechanical gear stored on and about him that weren’t blocked, so it was weird that he should have one concealed like that. Clark glanced at Batman’s face even as he shifted his eyesight. So if he saw anything weird in between the belt and the face it didn’t catch his eye; it could have been just a reflection brought on by the shift. 

“So, what’s in the belt?” He asked, trying to sound casual. 

“Just a little protection, in case you try to take me to jail.” The voice was calm, yet threatening. 

It could have been a bluff, because where and how would Batman get kryptonite? But Clark had called a bluff when it wasn’t a bluff already tonight. He had no intention of making the same mistake twice. But thoughts of that brought back the anger he still felt for Wayne. 

“Fine! You can have this crazy city, they deserve you. But the rest of the world is mine. And I will be keeping an eye on you!” All pretenses at civility were gone and Superman rocketed out of there as fast as he could. Batman watched as if he knew exactly what had gone through Superman’s mind just now. It couldn’t have worked out better if he had planned it. Batman allowed himself a moment of satisfaction before turning back to his city. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

Clark filed his puff piece but had to rewrite it twice because Perry said he sounded personally agitated at Wayne, who was doing a good thing for the city. He was never so glad of how quickly he healed as he was when the bruises on his thighs healed in two days. Those handprints were a reminder of something he was trying to forget, even if he had made them. Wayne, with his bo-flex muscles, could never have marked him like that. Wayne would probably faint if faced with a situation that required him to use those muscles. 

The anger kept coming back, every time he thought of Wayne. So he closed off his mind and tried to avoid thinking about Wayne, Gotham, or even Batman. He still monitored Gotham for any signs that Batman was abusing his power, but he forced himself not to get emotional about it. Batman was the opposite of Wayne, goal oriented and concerned about others, so if he was just a little nicer he and Superman could get along. Slowly, he learned to focus on Batman and ignore Wayne. Just when Clark thought he had a handle on it, the distribution center was ready to be opened. Of course, Perry assigned him to cover the grand opening and he had no reason to refuse. 

Everything was fine, until Brucie Wayne (running late as usual) took the stage. Clark pretended to take notes, just to keep from having to look at him. Clark figured he was almost done with his speech, when Wayne stopped in mid sentence. Startled, Clark looked up and into Brucie’s eyes. A white hot flash of desire blossomed out from south of his stomach, a region he was not going to name least it become encouraged. It must have showed on his face, because a slow smile spread across Brucie’s face before he woke up with an exaggerated shake. 

“Sorry folks, I lost my train of thought.” He let the amusement flow over him before concluding his remarks. Brucie stepped to the side and a few local dignitaries cut the ribbon with giant scissors. Clark made a hasty exit; all that anger at Wayne had just resurfaced. When his phone rang he opened it without looking. 

“Hello.” 

“Why Clark, you sound a little down.” Clark’s fury increased. The little fop was calling him. Now was his chance to tell him just what kind of impression he had made. “Say, I’ve got just the thing to cheer you up. I’m not leaving town until tomorrow morning, so why don’t we hang out?” 

Hang out! Clark had never met a villain he wanted to punch in the face more than this man! There was no force on this planet that would make him hang out with this man and he opened his mouth to tell him there was absolutely no way that was going to happen. “Absolutely not.” 

But before he finished the word absolutely, Brucie was speaking without having heard the last word. “Great! I’m at the Waldorf-Astoria, penthouse suite. I’ll leave word that you’re to come straight up when you get here. Give me half an hour, ok? Bye now.” 

Clark realized he was blocking foot traffic, as he had come to a complete stop in the middle of the sidewalk. He was tempted to destroy his phone but slowly put it away instead, and started walking. When he came to the end of the street, he rolled his eyes and turned right. The _Daily Planet_ was to the left, the Waldorf-Astoria was to the right. 

He was just going there to tell Bruce Wayne to his face that he was a feckless fop who treated people like dirt. Part of his mind suggested throwing Brucie on the bed and showing him a thing or two. It was a nice idea, but he rejected it when he realized his best efforts would probably lull Wayne to sleep. He’d have to use his superhuman speed and stamina to keep over-experienced Brucie interested. 

Reception was expecting him, so his only surprise came when Brucie answered the door himself. He smiled and gestured for Clark to enter but he was on the phone. Even as angry as he was, Clark was too polite to listen in or interrupt. He followed Brucie to a plush living room and sat on the proffered couch. 

As the phone call continued, Clark noticed Brucie was thinking about whatever was being said. He was frowning slightly and sharp intelligence radiated from his features and graceful body. Casting about for something to distract himself with, Clark remembered the broken ribs. A quick look showed two of the three were healed. That startled him and he looked closer. The top one of the three was actually broken in a different place now. What did the man get up to? 

Clark wanted an apology, he wanted real information about what Brucie did and he had no idea how to get that without revealing he was Superman. Except, Bruce was a Gothamite, so maybe Clark needed to act like Batman to get anything out of him. What would Batman do? Hide behind the couch and jump out and scare him? Amusing, but wrong. Batman would scowl down at Brucie and intimidate an apology out of him. Brucie was a big guy, but doubtless easily intimidated and lacking a backbone. 

Clark stood, crossed his arms over his chest and realized Brucie was too close to his height to scowl down at. He tried not to smirk as he floated two inches off the carpet. As long as Brucie didn’t look at his feet, he could get away with it and still do his Batman impersonation. Batman would also listen in on conversations Clark thought, so he opened his ears. 

“Is the information on the computer?” 

“What I have found, yes sir.” That British butler’s voice. So his butler was looking information up instead of answering doors for his master. Interesting. 

“Thanks, Alfred.” Clark was startled to hear affection in that thanks. It wasn’t overt, but it was there for the careful listener to find. Brucie adjusted his phone before tossing it on the end table. 

“Sorry about that.” Brucie said with a lopsided grin. 

The fop was back, as neatly as if Brucie had flipped a switch. Clark wondered if he had ever been checked for multiple personality disorder. He settled into the chair, oblivious to Clark’s intimidating pose. 

“The reason I asked you here is a little complex.” 

“Whatever.” Clark growled, attempting to control the conversation. “I don’t like you, Mister Wayne. You use people for your own pleasure and profit. Do you care at all for the people you employ? Are you aware that your every action affects their lives? I’m glad that a useless man like you is at least smart enough to leave the running of his company to others, but I still want to know just what you do with your time!” 

Brucie looked him in the eye and shrugged, completely un-intimidated. “I don’t care if you don’t like me. My time is my own, mine to fill however I choose. If I fill it with nothing but the search for pleasure, what’s wrong with that?” 

“I have heard a great deal about your ‘search for pleasure’, as it’s the only thing you do that’s newsworthy!” Clark shot back, but the only thing he could think to follow it with sounded really stupid as it came out. “Have you ever considered the pleasure of being involved in a committed relationship?” 

“Why Clark, I thought you didn’t like me!” 

Clark blushed but was still glad Brucie hadn’t just laughed at him. At least he was glad of that until Wayne spoke next. His voice dropped two registers for his next statement. 

“Oh! I see. You want me to apologize for how I treated you. You want me to get on my knees, and beg for forgiveness.” 

Before Clark could protest that was not (entirely) what he had in mind, Brucie did this weird sort of slide where he got out of the chair without standing up. Suddenly he was on his knees, two inches from Clark, head crotch level and bedroom eyes looking up. Even in such a position, Clark realized Brucie was very much in control of this encounter. Brucie locked eyes with Clark, but buried his mouth in Clark’s crotch. 

“I apologize and humbly beg your forgiveness for giving you the night of your life.” At least that’s what Clark thought Brucie said. 

With the mouth wrapped around his hardening cock and the vibrations doing interesting things to that whole region, he forgot to listen. Brucie’s hands were tugging at his shirt and rubbing his chest through the super-suit, which was what brought him back to reality. Clark wrenched himself out of Brucie’s mouth and set off for the bathroom as fast as he could without giving himself away. He locked the door behind him and buried his head under the cold water faucet. What was the deal?! Was he so hard up that all a villain had to do was come on to him and he was defeated? 

Bruce watched Clark retreat and successfully suppressed the urge to laugh. The easiest way to befuddle somebody was to refuse to take them seriously, and apparently Superman was used to being taken seriously. He shouldn’t have done it, but he’d seen that pose and went on the defensive. Clark had actually been floating. Apparently in an effort to be more intimidating, but he sure hadn’t remembered to land when Bruce knelt. 

He had called Clark up here to test the waters for a team project, start out easy by saying he had been in contact with Batman. Maybe eventually tell Clark the relationship between Batman and Wayne. But Superman was too easy to confound, too emotional to work with on a regular basis, so Batman was going with plan B. It would be more difficult and take about four days longer, but he could do it with electronics and without super-hearing. So he settled in front of the computer and started to work, dismissing Clark from his mind. 

Clark realized the cold water on his head wasn’t having the desired effect on his nether region so he shut the water off. He wanted to leave, but was far too self conscious to walk down the street with this much of a hard-on. Flying off would be even worse, assuming he could sneak past Wayne to a window, because of the suit being so tight. Not that there were many people to see him in the stratosphere. And, if he did leave now, Wayne would be just as hot and bothered. This idea had a great appeal for him and he did a quick scan. 

Alarms on the windows, most of which couldn’t actually be opened but there was a balcony. He checked to see if he could get to it without alerting Wayne, and saw that Wayne was a room away. On the computer, and his blood pressure wasn’t even slightly raised. He shifted his eyes and saw that Bruce wasn’t even looking at porno to calm himself; he was reading some sort of technical schematic. 

Clark saw red. His dick was hard enough to break walls and Brucie wasn’t even a little bit turned on! Actually he seemed totally unaware of Clark’s presence. Clark was used to a certain amount of abuse and being the butt of numerous jokes, but he was at least acknowledged. Superman was never treated this way. Somebody needed to teach Bruce Wayne a lesson and Clark felt an evil grin split his face as he realized who that somebody needed to be. A quick drying of the hair and a change of clothes, and he floated out into the hallway. 

“Bruce Wayne?” His arms were folded across his chest again, but the family symbol was still visible. He was a good foot and a half off the carpet and ready to intimidate the world’s most annoying fop. 

“Yes, Clark?” Brucie queried, without even looking up from his computer. Once again an encounter with Wayne was starting off on the wrong foot! Superman glided forward and bracketed his body around the computer monitor. 

“Clark Kent tells me you are a villain.” This got Brucie to look up, at least with his eyes. 

“He does, does he?” Brucie sounded like he was waiting on the punch line for a joke. 

“Kent says you are unkind, thoughtless, and spoiled. Since he has brought you to my attention, I will be watching you.” He put a scowl on his face to go with that threat. 

Wayne sighed, closed his computer and looked up with his whole head this time. When he spoke, his voice was back in that tone that had started this whole lesson. “Do you want me to apologize?” 

The body parts under those red briefs responded affirmatively, they defiantly wanted an apology. Clark forced his brain to find something to say. “If you don’t change your ways, you will wind up miserable and alone!” 

“So you’re the ghost of Christmas Future now?” 

Clark stared down at the fop who had just bested him. His brain and body froze, as neither one had a clue what to do next. The one man on the planet he could not intimidate was useless, feckless, empty-headed Bruce Wayne. And Batman he added, that individual hadn’t seemed too impressed with Superman either. He could have stayed that way for quite a while, with those piercing blue eyes staring up at him and seeing more than they should. Fortunately for them both, the phone rang. It was Brucie’s cell that he had left on the end table. 

Brucie held up his first finger as he got up to answer the phone. “Hold that thought Superman, it might be somebody important.” 

Neither Kal-El, Clark Kent, or Superman would have thought of themselves as egotistical, but being told of unimportance in such an offhand fashion could rile anybody. Superman moved and Brucie was in his arms and then he was lying on the bed. A quick look and Superman retrieved two ties from the closet, stripped Wayne and tied his hands to the bed. Superman stood looking down at him lying on his back, arms spread wide and Brucie tested the strength of the knots before looking up at Superman. 

“What are you planning on doing?” Brucie asked idly, as if he was inquiring about life insurance. But his eyes told a different story, they were narrowed and dangerous looking. 

Clark liked that look, and desperately wanted more of that apology. So, in response to the question, he super-stripped. One second fully clothed, the next completely naked but he tried to take his time in stroking himself into hardness. Brucie looked so nice and vulnerable, that he was ready rather soon. 

“I don’t suppose reminding you that you are Superman, and as such above things like this, would do any good?” Brucie’s voice was still casual but Clark was relieved to see Bruce’s body was responding with excitement. 

“Go on, tell the world. See who they believe. The useless playboy who has never done anything in his life, or Superman.” Clark shrugged a little as he walked to the bed and straddled Bruce’s legs. 

“Actually, I was thinking of your internal moral compass. Do you think you can live with yourself it you do this?” 

“Honestly, right now I am more concerned with my very external penis. You are making me crazy and if I don’t get some relief I might hurt an innocent because I would be thinking about you!” Clark rubbed Bruce’s slowly stiffening penis thoughtfully. “Tell you what, let me try one thing. If after that you want me to go, I will.” 

He wasn’t really expecting a response and doubted if he could fulfill that agreement, so he lowered his head before Brucie could reply. A quick nuzzle at the balls and he licked his way up the shaft. When he reached the top, Clark started swallowing and releasing, taking the penis further in each time. Finally when it was so far down his throat his nose was digging into Brucie, he started sucking. Brucie moaned, so Clark slowly increased the pressure until Brucie came. Using his tongue, he cleaned Brucie’s cock and balls where the semen would have been if it had not been super-sucked into Clark. When Brucie was mostly hard again, Clark quit and looked into his eyes. 

“Do you want me to continue?” Brucie took his time answering, calculations and passion warring in his expressive eyes. Clark started trying to figure out how to see the passion win, as he brought Brucie to sexual ecstasy, especially if Brucie said no. 

“I don’t think you could live with yourself if I said no and you do what you are planning on doing, so I am going to say yes.” 

This logical examination of an emotional situation reminded Clark of someone, but he was too blown away by the yes to give it much thought. 

“I could participate more if you untied my hands.” Brucie said reasonably. 

“I think I prefer you this way, but nice try!” Clark said with a grin. 

He let his hands roam around Brucie’s chest as he considered what to try next. He was careful to avoid the round bruise over the broken rib. Although he still wanted to know how that happened, his big head wasn’t contributing much to this exchange. Brucie, as if sensing his lack of direction, took control. He moved his legs and suddenly Clark was sliding down Brucie’s folded legs and onto his hips. Brucie’s cock rubbed against his thigh, and suddenly Clark wanted to feel it inside him again. He had wanted to try it the other way around, but that would have to wait until this need passed. He x-rayed the nightstand and saw nothing, so he started to glance around the room. 

“Use spit.” 

Came the voice of reason, and Clark looked at Brucie. He was flushed and ready to be ridden but still more together than the fop had been. Clark spit in his hand and carefully lubed up Brucie. By the time this was done, Clark needed it so bad that he didn’t bother stretching himself. Brucie’s dick filled him, rubbing that secret spot. Clark wasn’t sure if it was him or Brucie moving them, he was just sure of how good it felt. 

Clark was almost surprised to find his hand gripping and moving on his own penis, but he was so close. He must have said something about it, because suddenly he was showering Brucie, and Brucie was going off inside him. He collapsed carefully forward; he was spent but didn’t want Bruce to come out. He would have been quite happy to stay there for a while, but he forgot just who his partner was. 

“If you untie my hands, I could go get a cloth to wash us down with. Sperm can be really sticky when it dries.” 

Clark groaned into his shoulder. He’d been so overwhelmed by pleasure he forgot he could see, let alone to look at Brucie when he came. Now he wanted to cuddle and Brucie was irreverently bringing forethought into the situation. He sighed and started to get up; planning on a quick run for a towel and found his legs didn’t want to support him. So he flew vertically to the bathroom and back, hoping Brucie didn’t notice his weakness. 

He wasn’t sure why, but he knew he didn’t want Brucie to understand just how much effect he was having on Clark; he’d already revealed so much of himself to a man he hardly knew. He carefully cleaned Bruce’s perfect body, noticing several scars, and pulled the bedspread over both of them. Clark laid his head on Brucie’s stretched shoulder and started tracing patterns across his chest with a finger. 

“How did you get that bruise?” He asked in a sleepy voice. Surely Brucie was off his guard now and would answer honestly. 

Brucie had to look at it before he remembered its existence, apparently. “Oh, that. Somebody hit me with a golf ball last time I was at the club.” 

Clark sighed. So much for his guard being down. For a golf ball to break a rib Bruce would have been leaning over it as somebody hit it with all their strength. A sound caught his attention and he focused on it. He must have stiffened up because Brucie was suddenly talking, alert, and efficient. 

“What?” 

“Mudslide on the other side of the world.” Clark replied even as he got up to find his clothes. 

“Could you untie me before you go?” Brucie made being tied up sound more like an inconvenience than a problem, so Clark considered leaving him there just to see what he would do. 

“I’m tempted to leave you there until I get back, but it could be a while.” He dressed and untied Brucie quickly, but slowed down to give Brucie a real kiss before leaving via the balcony. 

Bruce rubbed his wrists and stared after Superman. He was surprised that Clark had the gall to come in as Superman. Had that been some sort of joke, about finally having a comrade in arms? He was also surprised at how eagerly Clark had been to get naked. Would he have really tried to force Bruce if he had said no? If he had, Batman would have had to find a way to stop the super-powered alien before he hurt someone vulnerable. For now, it was best to keep Superman around so Bruce had agreed to the sex. That hadn’t been his only motivation; it was hot as hell to him, but having a logical reason made him feel more in control. Clark was something, and it was taking more effort than it should not to call for a quickie, or even for a consult on some cases. 

Clark was clueless, but Superman had been something altogether interesting for the sexually jaded Bruce, and he had responded accordingly. Still, how had Clark figured out the connection between Bruce and Batman? Both had treated him with less respect than he was used to, but that was hardly enough to establish identity. He would have to ask, if ever their lives intersected again. But after a quick shower, he had a listening device to finish. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

By the time Superman had finished dealing with the mudslide, he regretted what he had done. If Brucie had told him to leave, Clark wasn’t sure he could have, and at the time he certainly didn’t intend to leave if asked! He was also greatly concerned with how quickly Brucie could drive him to insanity. Casually, without even giving it his full attention, Brucie had just taken him to a place he’d never been before. Becoming Superman to teach Brucie a lesson in how to treat people had turned Superman into the user he accused Brucie of being. If Brucie told, there could be considerable backlash, even if nobody believed Brucie. 

Of course, Brucie had agreed to it so he might not tell anybody, but his best bet was to apologize to Wayne. Except, if he ever saw Wayne again, he’d probably do the same thing. Clark needed to stop thinking about Brucie, and stop trying to figure out why he hid so much about himself. So, avoid Gotham, avoid Batman who made him feel like an idiot and above all, avoid Bruce Wayne and his ability to make people crazy. That was what he decided before he settled down to sleep, but apparently his vivid, wet dreams didn’t get the memo. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

Clark used his contacts to make sure Wayne’s private plane left Metropolis the next morning and settled down to his work at the _Daily Planet_. By concentrating on his work, he made it through the day, but when night came he found himself turning hungrily toward Gotham. It was a slow night, so when Clark’s cell phone rang, he doug it out of a special pocket in his belt to answer it. A glance showed it was from a blocked caller, and therefore probably a wrong number, but he answered anyway. 

“Hello?” 

“There’s a riot at Blackgate prison that Superman should attend to.” 

Clark forgot to breathe as that voice growled out his statement. The phone clicked of as soon as Batman was done talking. Numb, he tried to call back only to get a recording of an operator. Batman wouldn’t call up some random reporter hoping to get in touch with Superman, which meant he knew! How could he know? They had only met twice! People he had known for years hadn’t figured it out. He listened toward Bludhaven’s prison and decided Batman was right, there was a riot going on. He couldn’t ignore the riot, so he flew to it while planning the conversation he’d have with Batman afterwards. 

Police sirens were still a ways off when he arrived, so Clark just started making his way through the prison. He was knocking out the particularly violent and tying up everybody with whatever was handy as he went. It wasn’t particularly hard work but there were a lot of prisoners, so the exercise helped to clear his mind. He could try to play it off, tell Batman he heard riot and knew nothing about a phone call. He doubted it would work but trying was better than losing his secret identity. 

As he worked his way to the offices, Clark began to wonder why all the people he came across had random things on their heads as makeshift electronic devices. Hats or cloth he could understand but this guy had duct taped a toilet seat on his bald head. Clark eventually made it to the administrative offices only to find them sealed. He x-rayed the doors to see if he needed to break it open and saw a dozen people sprawled on the floor. One person was tying them up so he forced his way in. He sped across the room and yanked that person up and around, only to see that he didn’t have a face. 

“Batman!” He switched back to normal vision and tried to make it seem like he knew who it was all along. “What are you doing outside Gotham?” 

“Rescuing hostages.” 

“If you are rescuing them, why are they all unconscious?” Make it sound like he didn’t trust Batman’s work, and that’s why he’d interrupted him. 

“The gas I dropped through the air vent knocked everybody out so they wouldn’t get hurt.” Infuriatingly calm, Batman spoke as if this was all completely obvious and reasonable. “If you hadn’t been distracting him by attacking his drones, the Mad Hatter might’ve been able to hurt a hostage before the gas took effect, so you helped.” 

He had just taken out almost two thousand prisoners and Batman said he helped. It was kind of like scoring the most goals and only getting a participation trophy. Was there a class in Gotham on how to make him angry? Move past the anger, he told himself, focus on what that irritating flying rat is talking about. 

“The Mad Hatter was transferred out here for trial and they let him near a computer. This time his device made everyone controlled want to go out and forcibly recruit people with whatever was handy. I’ve been checking on him daily and was close enough that when I couldn’t get any footage I stopped by to check things out. When I saw what was happening, I called the police but I needed a quicker distraction, so I called you.” 

That proved it, not only was Batman trying to treat him like crap, Batman knew he was Clark Kent. And then Batman was moving, moving so fast it was like he had the super speed. Superman whirled around to see what was going on. One of the hostage takers Batman had not tied up yet when Clark interrupted him was aiming a gun at them. Batman was in front of it and moving toward the man! 

The gun fired and Batman didn’t even seem to notice as he knocked the man unconscious, removed the gun and tied him up. Batman deftly removed the top hat off a pudgy little man and went around to finish tying people up. Clark would’ve apologized for interrupting and causing him to be shot had it been anyone other than Batman. 

Instead he asked in a calm, unemotional voice Batman should’ve approved of. “Are you injured?” 

“No, it was only a .22.” Superman nodded because he understood that. 

He recalled reading an article about police issue body armor stopping bullets up to a certain size, but if they got large enough they could bruise or even break ribs. Clark’s insides contracted like they were getting sucked into a vacuum cleaner. Batman was standing up, examining the Mad Hatter’s control device so Clark x-rayed under the blocked face. Three recently healed ribs, the top one re-broken with a golf ball sized bruise over it. Without a single coherent thought, Clark ripped the device out of Batman’s hands and tucked him under his arm like an errant child. 

As they flew out of the corridors of tied up prisoners, Batman calmly remarked. “If you could just drop me by the Batwing out in the woods behind the prison, that would be great.” 

Superman took to the sky and Batman added, with annoyance in his voice. “Gotham would be fine; I can always come back for the Batwing.” 

It wasn’t a conscious decision, but Clark was taking him home. He pulled Batman closer to his body and wrapped him in his red cape before flying north at top speed. 

Somewhere over Canada a low, threatening voice spoke but it didn’t even make Clark hesitate. “I am not amused.” 

Almost at the North Pole, Clark descended and took them into the fortress. By this time Batman was shivering so he took him straight to the bedroom. Clark placed him beside the bed and told the A.I. to adjust the heat. Batman didn’t understand the language so he just stood there glaring and trying not to show how cold he was. Clark now knew better than to try and match that intimidating stare, so he decided to be considerate. 

“I told the artificial intelligence to warm up the room for you. It won’t take too long, but a hot shower will help you warm up quicker.” 

Batman looked like he was going to stay as he was, but finally he moved his cape and sat on the bed. He started with the gauntlets, which were apparently more complex than just a zipper. Hands free, he bent over to start unlacing the boots. Even with his mind blank and his emotions in turmoil, Clark felt desire stir at this strange strip. He zipped to the kitchen, gathered up a tray of food and returned. 

“I’ve got some fruit and cheese if you’re hungry, but only water to drink. I usually eat at the apartment so I don’t keep much here besides the fruit that grows in the greenhouse.” 

Batman shrugged as he carried his boots and gloves over to a shelf. “That’ll be fine for now, but for a longer stay I would require more nutritional variety.” 

Wait, was Batman suggesting a sleepover? Clark wondered, so he came back with the original line, “What?” 

“That was a subtle way of asking how long you were going to keep me here.” The cape joined the boots on the shelf. “Though I think imprisoning me is a very dramatic response to a request for a professional consultation.” 

“Imprisoning, request, consultation!” Clark sputtered for a while before calming down enough to respond coherently. “There is so much wrong with that sentence, I don’t even know where to start. Bruce.” 

He added the name separately and distinctly so there would be no way Batman didn’t hear. That notable, however, simply finished placing his cape on the shelf and moved on to his mask. Clark stared his confusion at Bruce’s back, why hadn’t he reacted? 

“I’d like to know how you figured it out, so I can adjust my disguise.” Bruce said as he laid his mask on the shelf, voice between Batman and Brucie. Not the response Clark figured he would get, but he went with it. 

“You don’t have to worry, I had to x-ray you to figure it out.” Bruce favored him with a quizzical look, even as he started to remove his body armor. Clark continued with only a few embarrassing pauses as he tried to avoid mentioning the mind-blowing sex. “The first time when you, ah, held the press luncheon about your Metropolis project, I noticed the three broken ribs. After the grand opening ceremony, I was bored while you were on the phone and checked to see how they were healing. The top one of the three was broke again, which I thought was weird.” 

Bruce held his chest armor in one hand as he prodded around the rib in question. “I wasn’t sure if that one was broke or not.” 

Superman had never had a broken bone, and was seriously concerned by Bruce’s lack of concern. But he was distracted as Bruce put his chest armor up and reached for his utility belt. Of course Bruce saved the belt for next to last, put off being separated from his essential tools as long as possible. Clark forced his mind back to what he’d been saying, because once those pants came off he doubted he would remember. 

“So when I checked to make sure you weren’t hurt after that prisoner shot you, I…” Clark trailed off, as Bruce had whirled around and was looking at him with Batman eyes, narrowed, dangerous, and scary pissed. 

“You. Just. Figured. It. Out. Tonight?” 

Anyone with half a brain would be afraid of that tone, but Clark pushed that instinctive fear aside. This was his fortress, and a quick scan showed Batman didn’t have his lead lined pouch tonight. In a straight up fight, nobody on this planet could match him. So he squared his shoulders and faced Batman’s disapproval. 

“Yeah, so?” 

“You went up to see Wayne as Clark, and slept with him as Superman. Your only disguise was a pair of glasses, which came off when you were naked with him before. And you didn’t expect anyone to figure out the connection between you? Wayne, his staff, random people with access to the security footage outside the hotel room?” 

Clark shrugged dismissively. “Nobody has figured it out yet, so the glasses really do work.” 

“I figured it out!” 

This time Clark’s shrug was heartfelt, as was his smile. “You’re special, though.” 

Bruce sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair, messing it up nicely. “Look, if you want to maintain your secret identity, you’re going to have to be more careful from now on. I’ll help when I can, but you should make sure those who know one do not get direct contact with the other. Since I’m not your prisoner, I’ll warm up under the shower, get dressed, and let you take me home.” 

“Ah, no.” 

Bruce looked like Batman was seriously considering trying to take on Superman, so Clark stepped close enough to share his body heat. He ran his hand through Bruce’s hair and said in a husky voice he hardly recognized as his own. 

“I just thought of a better way to heat you up.” 

He leaned forward and found Bruce’s cold fingers instead of his lips. “No. It’s still night in Gotham, and things there require my attention.” 

Clark laughed and began gently rubbing warmth back into Bruce’s flesh. “Yes, and if you started walking now, how many nights do you think would pass before you reached Gotham? Before I take you anywhere, you’re going to warm up, in more ways than one.” 

Bruce closed his eyes, rolled his head around, and then relaxed completely with a deep breath. His belt thudded to the floor and while he removed his pants, Clark removed everything he had on. There was a long moment where they just regarded each other, until Clark realized he was the seducer here; it was his place to act. Reaching for Bruce’s penis, he dropped to his knees and discovered he didn’t like the position. He felt vulnerable, even though he knew he wasn’t. How had Bruce done it and still maintained control of the situation? 

Of course, that was what had attracted him to Batman and Brucie, they made him lose control. Most of the time he couldn’t risk that, as it’d be so easy for him to hurt somebody. The man before him had been hurt so often and so bad, that his tolerance was high and he could handle almost anything. Clark would be careful with Bruce, but he would also be safe with him. He was nigh invulnerable, but it took a naked Batman to make him fill safe. Clark smiled at the thought even as he pulled his hands away from Bruce’s now erect penis and leaned forward. 

He licked the tip and it jerked while Bruce remained perfectly still. He didn’t know they could do that, had his ever done that and he simply hadn’t noticed? He worked the tip until he got a surprisingly salty taste on his tongue. Pre-come he figured, and took this as a sign to move on. He let his mouth play with Bruce’s balls for a while, while his hands squeezed Bruce’s perfectly formed buttocks. As he moved from the balls to the shaft, he snuck a finger into his mouth and wetted it thoroughly. 

As he toyed with the shaft, he inserted his finger into Bruce’s hole. When he moved to the tip again, he inserted a second finger. Bruce responded by digging his fingers into Clark’s hair. With the third finger, Bruce started to thrust but forced himself to stop. Clark realized Bruce was letting him have control, an honor he was sure wasn’t awarded to many. So Clark accepted that control by forcing Bruce to his rhythm. He kept the pace slow, steady, and not stimulating enough for Bruce to climax. When Clark was good and ready, he pulled his head away while inserting a fourth finger. Bruce came on his face in glorious spray that was almost enough for Clark to climax. 

Clark stood, and lifting Bruce and carrying him to the bed while hugging and kissing on him. He laid Bruce on his back on the bed and eyed his target hungrily. Bruce grabbed a pillow and stuffed it under his hips before spreading his bent legs. Clark used the come on his face to lubricate himself before lowering his body down and slowly penetrating Bruce. It was warm and seductive like a vagina, but lined with powerful muscles and an unmatched tightness and friction. 

It felt so perfect he had to force himself to pull out. He couldn’t remember if Bruce had emerged completely before going back in, so he tried it. It slowed down the pace, prolonging the pleasure. A few minutes of this and he was pleased to note Bruce was hard again. Clark looked into Bruce’s eyes and notice he was still there, analyzing and recording. Clark responded by increasing the tempo, but not too much. 

He wanted to go faster, he was so close himself but he held out until Bruce moaned. It was a deep, guttural noise and his eyes were losing focus. It was such a beautiful, rewarding sight to see Bruce so far gone that Clark came at the same instant as Bruce. A few secondary convulsions and Clark held himself perfectly still as a fully formed thought leaped into his brain. He was going to stay like this forever; a permanent part of Bruce. Except Bruce was Batman, and he was moving before the fluids even stopped dripping. He separated them and curled up on his side. 

“So now that you’re sated, you’re going to take me home?” Bruce asked while managing not to sound too petulant. 

Clark rested his chin on Bruce’s head as he lay down and fitted his body to Bruce’s back. “Nope. You wore me out and now I need rest. You may be nearly perfect physically, but you still need sleep. How long has it been since you got eight hours sleep anyway?” 

“Decades.” Bruce responded before he could censor himself. Oddly, he felt compelled to explain, something he tended to avoid. “At first, it was nightmares about my parent’s deaths, then gory dreams of revenge. Now I’ve been trained to make do without sleep, and it’s very unlikely I’ll manage to sleep while sharing a bed.” 

Bruce moved distinctly away from his bedfellow and toward the edge. Clark shifted with him and then wrapped an arm and a leg over him to prevent him from moving further. A few words to the AI, and the lights lowered. The room was the perfect temperature, and when combined with their mingled body heat they didn’t need covering. 

Bruce had been on plenty of beds, but never one as comfortable as this. He could go to sleep here, cuddling with an unstoppable man from another planet and he was bothered by how little that idea bothered him. Bruce had experienced great sex before but didn’t equate that with the feeling of comfort that engulfed him now. 

Batman had studied Superman since he first appeared in the news and had watched him as a potential threat. When they finally met Superman had seemed emotionally unstable, an account that didn’t tally with the hero on the news. Maybe he only got that way around Batman or Brucie, as both were extremely good at pushing people’s buttons. Putting people off kilter made them easier prey in the business world as well as the criminal, and Superman had reacted like a human. 

So if Superman was more human than he seemed, wasn’t that a good thing? It emotionally tied him to this world, so he’d do his best to protect it and not attempt to seize control. That was Batman’s concern with Superman and he’d continue plan for eventualities; but right now he was content to lie here. Bruce also liked lying here and Superman didn’t seem to care which of them he was with. 

Maybe that was the problem which was causing such comfort; with Superman he could be either Brucie or Batman or both or neither. Who was he when he wasn’t Batman or Brucie Wayne? Up till now, being two people had been more than enough and Superman made him want to be a third person, one worthy of love. But Gotham was too important to forget about in the search for personal happiness, so he’d stick with the two people he already was. 

It’d have to been enough, and when it wasn’t he could come to Superman. A place where he didn’t have to be in control. This could allow him to focus on his mission while maintaining optimum mental health and releasing sexual tensions in a healthy way. It was a comfort that was more than he could hope for, and it’d have to be enough. Bruce didn’t allow himself to smile, lest Clark was watching but he was ready to sleep until Clark spoke. 

Clark had been silently marveling at the man wrapped in his body, thinking all the compliments Batman was too mission oriented to let him say. The beauty, the grace, the skills, the passion, the intelligence, the knowledge, all held together with an indomitable will. If this world ever got Superman depressed, he could go to the world’s greatest realist who thrived in the dark places of the world and find joy and purpose again. 

Batman had overwhelmed him by the force of his presence, scared him out of Gotham with insults and a few well chosen words. Brucie had seduced him into a world of sex and pleasure without consequences. Together, they made a person that would always challenge Clark emotionally, physically and mentally. Clark had always loved a challenge. In fact, he … 

“Oh, crap!” 

Clark hadn’t realized he finished his startling thought out loud until Bruce rolled over. Wide awake and questioning, he waited patiently for Clark to explain. Clark gently brushed his hand down the side of Bruce’s face before speaking. 

“I, Clark Kent/Superman/Kal-el, son of Jor-el, am hopelessly in love with Bruce “Batman” Wayne.” 

Bruce was on his feet in an instant, pillow hiding his manhood, chaotic emotions on his face. Clark almost laughed, this was the reaction he expected when he told Batman he knew who he was (though with less clothes). Bruce found rushed words to mutter from behind his hand, which was held up in a stop gesture. 

“OK, I can see where you might think that. I am a great lay; I worked hard to become so. Lust and its aftereffects can confuse the emotions. There are so many chemicals and hormones floating around your body after sex that you could fall in love with an intimate object. Once you understand this, it’s a lot easier to let that false emotion be reabsorbed with the hormones that created it.” 

Now Clark did laugh. “Actually, I thought about it very logically before I came to that conclusion.” 

Bruce started pacing perpendicular to Clark’s position on the bed, an exercise that afforded Clark a great view of what the pillow was not covering. 

“OK, you believe it now. The sex was great, but it was supposed to help you get it out of your system. Equating love with lust just shows that you are lonely and need someone in your life. But I’m not going to take advantage of you in such an emotionally vulnerable state. Take me home, stay out of Gotham for five or ten years. Find a nice, normal woman or man, somebody with no need to hide their face from the world. Date that person, be married for fifteen years, and then if you say you love me, I’ll believe it. Sound fair?” 

Clark was suddenly there, hugging Bruce from behind. “That’s it Bruce, make me work for it. Challenge me and make my love stronger.” 

“I’m serious, Clark, let it go. We can revisit this when we’re older and free of our duties.” 

Clark tried to picture how old Bruce would be when he gave up the mantle and found he couldn’t. He was surprised at this failure of the imagination until a voice in the back of his head, a voice that sounded like Batman, whispered. ‘Bruce will never get old. Batman will take his life before that can happen.’ Clark knew this to be true, because Bruce was human and not infallible or invulnerable. 

“Go shower and I’ll take you back.” Clark was surprised at how sad and defeated his voice was as he slowly released Bruce. He wasn’t sure of how long he’d live, but felt in his heart that it would be a lot longer than Bruce. Instead of giving up, in an instant his heart and soul resolved to spend as much time with Bruce as he could in preparation for those lonely years. He had time on his side; he would find a way to make Bruce love him. 

Work together; spend time as friends until he was indispensable in Bruce’s life. He’d figure out who he had to be to make Bruce love him and he’d be that person. Having decided that, Clark felt a little physical activity would help his case so he joined Bruce in the shower. Bruce stopped washing his arm when he saw Clark’s expectant little smile, and Bruce buried his face in his soap free hand. 

“Kal-El.” Was all the recrimination he could think of to say as he shook his head in exasperation. 

It was the wrong thing to say. The sound of his birth name on Bruce’s lips excited him in ways he couldn’t understand. Clark was instantly hard again, and in short order, so was Bruce. Life wouldn’t be perfect until Bruce loved him, but this was close enough for now. 

sB _Sb_ Bs


End file.
